The Defiant Princess (23 page)

He shuddered in ecstasy.

“Did I do something wrong?” She pulled her hand quickly back to her side.

“No, but if you keep touching me that way, I won't last.”

“Oh.”

He took a deep breath to restore his control. “Later, you can touch me and learn my body. For now it's better that I touch you.” He traced the outline of the pendant from her mother, that lay against her chest, then cupped her breasts again in his hands. Completely focused, he watched her reactions as he allowed his hands to drift downward over the flatness of her stomach, to trace the indentation of her waist and the alluring feminine curve of her hips. He stroked his hands along her silken thighs, urging her legs apart so he could caress the sensitive inner flesh. Her soft sounds of appreciation made it sheer torment to hold back.

Almost overcome with lust, he swallowed hard and tried to concentrate solely on her responses and her pleasure as he allowed his hand to drift toward the apex of her thighs. She went rigid.

“I'm not sure—”

“No, but I am.” He stopped immediately when her hand reached out to still his own.

“I want this,' she said as she trembled beneath him, “but …”

Even in the soft moonlight, the redness of her cheeks was apparent. “Sabihah, I know that you're nervous, but I promise to bring you pleasure. I need to know that you're with me.”

When had he ever been so tentative, so uncertain?

The second she nodded, he released the breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding. “I don't want you to have any regrets.”

“I won't.”

He could see she was still tense, even though she gave him a brave smile.

With a deliberately slow action he separated the delicate folds of her flesh. He stroked the entrance until he felt her relax, heard her moan of desire. He experienced a rush of exhilaration when he felt the liquid heat of her, the stark proof of her arousal. Coating his finger in the silky dew of her desire, he swept upward unerringly to find and rub the lush nub of nerve endings which swelled for him. His fingers stroked at it, tugged gently at it, making her tremble even harder and arch her hips in reaction.

As his thumb continued to circle and flick over that tight bud, he eased her further apart. He slid first one and then another finger into the slick, molten core of her, drawing upon all of his mastery to move his fingers with exquisite thoroughness. She gave a startled cry of delight, her hips bucked against him and her head moved restlessly. Within seconds she seemed to teeter on the edge of her climax, whimpering softly as she sought to reach total fulfilment. The sounds shot fire through his belly.

“You're so responsive,” he murmured appreciatively.

Every muscle burned as he reined in his own needs. He wanted to bury himself in her silken heat but she was so tight, so slender. He knew she had to be ready to accommodate the full length of him.

She smelled erotic. The oils that had been massaged in by the Bedouin women made her smell spicy like a rare desert flower. The spice combined with her own musky scent …

She would taste even better.

He made his way down her body, replacing his thumb with his mouth. Her writhing told him that the stimulation of his fingers and hot lave of his tongue tortured her in the best possible way. Her thighs quivered. Her fingers tunnelled through his hair. She uttered a husky, incoherent plea. Every muscle tightened and she bucked as he darted his tongue in and out of her sheath. The taste of her honeyed sweetness climaxing against his mouth was the most satisfyingly erotic experience of his life.

He didn't allow her to come down fully from her ecstatic trip to the heavens. She was ready for him. In one smooth movement, he shifted his body over hers and placed one arm beside her body to take his weight. Sliding his other arm under her bottom, he lifted her hips. She needed no urging. Instinctively, she angled her hips to seek the ultimate connection with him. The solid ridge of his penis settled at her opening and he throbbed painfully as his blood thundered through his veins.

He watched the quick changes on her face, saw her eyes widen in anticipation. She moved her hips in enticement. Her body strained toward him. His fantasies merged with reality as she lifted her legs and wound them tight around his waist.

“Please,” she gasped. “I can't wait.”

He remained still, teetering on the brink of gliding into her body and sharing the most intimate contact of all with her.

“Say my name,” he commanded. He felt the beads of sweat on his brow as he continued to leash the beast that raged within him. One thought could not be obliterated from his head. He needed to know that he was the one who absorbed all her thoughts—not the man she'd saved herself for. Not Hazim.

“Khalid. Please, Khalid. I need this,” she panted desperately. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on.

The rapier-sharp blade of his desire stabbed through him, barely able to be controlled. “We are married,
habibti
. Now it's time for you to be my wife.

Her tight muscles stretched to accept him as he nudged forward through the silken folds of her body and entered her wondrous, intimate embrace.

He heard her swift intake of breath, felt her pull her hips back and her muscles flinch as she gave a sharp cry of pain.

He stilled and shifted his weight onto his forearms so he could cradle her face in his hands. “The pain is over, Sabihah. Now there will be only pleasure.”

She breathed out in what seemed to be relief, but he still saw the agonised uncertainty conflicting with her yearning for more.

“Relax, Sabihah. Trust me.”

She looked up at him and he wished to remember the expression on her face forever. “I do trust you, Khalid. Implicitly.”

What passed between them was much more than their physical union. It confused him momentarily but there was no analysing it as his physical needs took over.

She shifted her hips experimentally. “I need … more. I want more.”

It was just as well. Khalid doubted he could torture himself any longer by holding back. On a splintering groan, he moved inside her, withdrawing almost to the brink then plunging back within her slowly. But Sabihah wasn't content. Her legs tightened around him and urged him to increase the pace until they melded together in an age-old rhythm and his thrusts were fast, hard and deep.

His mouth scorched a pathway along her collarbone, up the sensitive column of her neck and along her jaw. She moved her head and claimed his lips with her own. Urgent, passionate kisses with their tongues tangling and surging in time with the thrusting of their hips.

Then, her rhythm broke. Her body tensed and her inner muscles clenched and tightened around him. The internal spasms and shuddering of her body went on and on. She dug her nails into his shoulders, her breath rasped against his ear and he felt the moisture of her climax as a wild sob of pleasure broke from her mouth.

He couldn't hold on. The cataclysmic explosion of her orgasm triggered his own release and he felt the white-hot force of his eruption splinter through him. He threw his head back and groaned her name as he drove into her one more time, the contractions of her aftershocks milking the last male essence from his body.

Never had he felt his world implode around him so completely. The level of pure ecstasy was stratospheric and beyond all his previous experiences. His gaze lowered to where they were still joined and he felt himself begin to pulse and firm again. Reluctantly, he withdrew. As he did so he saw the evidence of her virginity on her inner thighs. She would be sore after their lovemaking—he needed to tend to her.

***

Sabrina looked up at the starry sky through tear-glazed eyes. Had there just been a meteor shower, or had all the exploding stars been a result of his lovemaking? The world as she'd known it had just shattered around her. Her limbs were heavy, her body fulfilled in a way she'd never dreamed possible. Yet there was an aching, weighty sadness in her heart. The knowledge that she'd connected physically with every atom of her being to her lover but that they were basically strangers was almost soul-destroying.

“I'm sorry I hurt you.”

“No, you didn't.” She shook her head then amended, “Well, only momentarily.”

“Why are you crying?”

“You said you wanted my honesty. Do you think you can handle it?” she asked.

The smile he gave her seemed just a little cautious. “Try me.”

“I'm crying because … because damn it all, Khalid, that felt sensational.' She reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders, tracing absently over his collarbones with her thumbs. “You were incredible and I loved every second of it.” She sighed. “How am I supposed to go back to a normal life in Australia now when we divorce and you marry … someone else?”

Khalid levered himself up to sit beside her. “You won't be returning to Australia.” A fierce, intense possessiveness burnt in his eyes and he looked like an all-conquering desert warrior. “You are my wife, Sabihah. We made vows today that I intend to keep.”

Confusion clouded her mind and she scrambled to sit up. “No. We agreed to get a divorce.”

“Don't be perverse. You just acknowledged how good we are together,” he bit out with impatience. “By your own admission you wondered how you would give up this ecstasy and go back to your former life. Don't speak of divorce.”

What?
She couldn't compute what he was saying. Self-conscious now, she drew her knees up and propped her arms on them in an attempt to cover her nudity. “We might be good together as lovers but we know nothing about each other in any way that really counts.”

“We will learn to know each other.”

“No.” Her denial outweighed her modesty and she jumped to her feet. “I won't be trapped into a life that isn't of my choosing. I have a life Khalid.”

He stood to face her. “A life that's nothing compared to what it could be.”

“I resent that!”

“But you know it's the truth.” He wasn't giving an inch. “In Australia, you're a school teacher who influences the lives of children in a small town. In Rhajia, you will influence the lives of citizens of an entire nation—people whose needs have been sorely neglected by Mustaf.” He half turned away from her then turned back. “In Australia you would go back to your celibate existence in that small country town. In Rhajia, we will share endless nights of ecstasy.”

She crossed her arms over her naked chest. She couldn't argue with what he said, but she did have a right to choose life in Australia if that was what she wanted—and who the hell was he to say that she'd go back to being celibate? “You promised me a divorce.”

“No,” his denial was categorical. “You spoke of divorce. I agreed to marry you. There can be no divorce.”

And suddenly Helen's anxiety hit her with the full force of a freight train. “Oh God,” Sabrina groaned. “Helen tried to tell me you wouldn't divorce. How did she know?”

“The Turastani royal family don't divorce.”

Her body went completely rigid as horror pervaded every cell. She shook her head continually as she faced him. “No. Damn it, Khalid! You said—”

“I did not agree to your terms. I would never agree to a divorce.”

Her fists clenched at her sides and her lips tightened as she tossed her head back. “You knew very well I married you today expecting a divorce.”

For a split second his jaw clenched. “I didn't lie to you.”

“You lied by omission.” She was yelling at him in accusation, slashing her hand angrily through the air. She turned her back on him and scrambled to retrieve her Bedouin wedding clothing, relieved to slip the garment over her head. She rounded on him once again as soon as she was clothed, wishing he'd dress as well.

“Why won't you divorce me?”

“It's an archaic law, but one that states if a ruler or destined ruler divorces, he or she must give up the right to the throne.”

Helplessness, disbelief and anger all combined in the churning cauldron at the pit of her stomach. “There's a simple solution, you change the law.”

“It cannot be changed. Turastani people value the sanctity and fidelity of marriage. If one cannot commit to one's spouse and make things work, one cannot commit to the ruling of a nation.”

“To think I trusted you!” Tears of bitter regret ran down her cheeks. “You were the one who told me honesty was everything between us! You let me believe you would assume the rulership of Rhajia.”

“You proposed that. Had you thought it through, you would've realised only a blood relative of your father can rule Rhajia. If you went through with your plan of abdication, Mustaf would be back on the throne immediately. I could never be ruler.”

The red heat of rage pulsed through her veins. “You bastard. You could've pointed that out to me before we were married, before you brought me here to Turastan.”

He closed his eyes briefly and told her quietly, “You would never have come to Turastan with me if I hadn't let you believe what you wanted to.”

“Exactly.” If she thought that stamping her foot against the cool desert sand would make him see her point, she would've done it. Instead she ran her hands roughly through her hair, willing a solution—a way out of this situation—to come to her. “That admission—the fact you tricked me into this intentionally—makes your actions just now even worse. If you were any sort of gentleman you would've told me before we … before we had sex.”

Khalid looked agitated. “Don't turn around and pretend now that you regret what we've just shared. I made certain you wanted our lovemaking.”

“I like making informed choices.”

Grabbing her upper arms, he railed at her. “Don't you get it, Sabihah? You have to be alive to make choices. Had you not come to Turastan with me, you would've ended up dead. Mustaf would've sent another assassin after you.”